


Merry

by to_the_wick (Jei_Stark)



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Christmas, F/M, Mistletoe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-12
Updated: 2013-05-12
Packaged: 2017-12-11 15:47:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/800423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jei_Stark/pseuds/to_the_wick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony has mistletoe and knows how to use it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Merry

**Author's Note:**

> A sort of winter holiday songfic, inspired by a slow jazz piano improv of "Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas." Very sappy and corny. I regret nothing!

Tony sat hunched at the piano, one barely touched glass of scotch sitting next to him on the bench, condensation forming a tiny circled puddle around the bottom. His hands moved slowly on the keys, fingers picking out notes the way they tapped out code onto the consoles downstairs or twisted wires in machinery -- deftly, delicate, deliberate. Something private and incomprehensible to anyone who wasn't him, or anyone who didn't know him well enough. The people who would only begin to understand his thought processes here could be counted on one hand, and neither of them were here tonight. Rhodey was visiting family, and Pepper was making last minute arrangements for the annual Stark Industries Christmas party.  
  
It was the day before Christmas Eve. Tony didn't mind being alone, however.  
  
 _Have yourself a merry little Christmas, let your heart be light  
From now on, our troubles will be out of sight_  
  
Being alone meant he could sing without anyone pointing out how off-key he was, or how he didn't sing loudly enough, or how he sang better when he wasn't paying so much attention to himself (or anyone else, for that matter). Not that Rhodey or Pepper would say these things, and they were honestly the only ones he'd allow anywhere near him at this time of year anyway. In between improvised key changes and low stilted humming, he wondered if Pepper had a date for that Christmas party tomorrow night. It had already been quite a few months since his return, since Iron Man, since Stark Industries stumbled and then slowly picked itself up again.  
  
Since Obadiah's... _something._ Whatever he wanted to call that. Though, right now, he didn't want to call it anything. Or think about it at all. Christmastime was a time for quiet contentment, wasn't it?  
  
So. Back to thinking about Pepper, then.  
  
 _Have yourself a merry little Christmas, make the Yule-tide gay,  
From now on, our troubles will be miles away._  
  
He wondered what kind of dress she'd wear this year. Wondered if she'd let him dance with her again. And then he smiled tentatively, wondering if she'd remember her deodorant this time around. Not that she smelled like anything but _completely surprisingly wonderful_ , but he was beginning to think he was a little bit biased. Maybe a little romantic, even. The one girl he never had would, of course, be the one he would be thinking about and pining for on a lonely winter night. It was almost poetic, if it weren't so damn sad.  
  
________________________________  
  
" _Here we are as in olden days, happy golden days of yore..._ "  
  
The party was a success, of course. And this year especially, as Stark Industries was experiencing quite the miraculous comeback, from stocks climbing to general media attention being almost overwhelmingly positive. The results of which were all evident in the looks on the faces of the employees, the sound of their laughter, even the joyously smoky way the woman on stage was singing. Everything was going well. Absolutely everything.  
  
And yet, Tony was still frowning.  
  
His suit was perfect, his hair was perfect, his attitude was perfect, but he'd spent most of the night winding his way through crowds shmoozing and not nearly enough time looking for Pepper. They'd come separately -- he'd originally told her he'd rather spend the night in the workshop upgrading the armor -- and now the only thing that was missing from his night was one dance, just _one_ dance with her. And maybe that drink he owed her. And the kiss she owed _him,_ if he was really lucky.  
  
But he didn't believe in luck, so he'd brought a little something with him to assure at least one of these things would happen.  
  
His attention was only dimly on the song: his eyes were still scanning the ballroom for some telltale sign. Maybe a flash of blue (was she even wearing a blue dress tonight?), maybe a glint of red hair (was it out tonight?), maybe the sound of her laughter (and a stab of jealously hit his gut, as he didn't want to imagine anyone else being able to _really_ make her laugh). His face betrayed none of his emotions, but in one pocket, his fingers were nervously tapping out the notes of the song. It wasn't even his favorite Christmas song, but it was playing, and it would have to do because it was that or start picking and shredding what he'd hidden in his pocket that evening before arriving.  
  
And then, through a throng of party-goers, he saw her.  
  
" _Faithful friends who are dear to us gather near to us once more..._ "  
  
It was a darker blue dress this time around. Collared but sleeveless, with delicate silver trimming and a back not half as low as the last dress he'd seen her in. Her hair was half-swept, some of it in a loose bun and the rest falling in delicate curls to her shoulders. Shoulders dusted in tiny, beautiful freckles, if his memory served him correctly -- and he knew it did, because he'd memorized how she'd looked to him that night at the Firefighter's Benefit. For a long moment, he forgot he was standing in the middle of the dance floor, but then he found his view of Pepper being blocked by dancers, which finally snapped him out of his reverie long enough to start making his way to the balcony she now stood at.  
  
The balcony had wide windowed double doors with curtains attached, and he was silently thankful for the curtains. Her back was turned to him, but his movement was still blocked from her peripheral vision by those curtains, so he was able to make his way to the doorway and stand there for another impossibly long moment while she leaned against the marble handrail, one foot toeing in and out of her likely expensive blue heel. A gift from him, he assumed, which made him smile wider. He didn't even realize he had already _been_ smiling. She had a tendency of affecting him that way.  
  
" _Through the years we all will be together, if the Fates allow..._ "  
  
He cleared his throat, one hand on the doorknob behind him. As she turned, it was like _that night_ all over again: her eyes caught his, his heart thudded, her smile was surprised but warm, and he could feel the sweat on his palms, one at the doorknob and the other still in his pocket. He forced himself to tear his eyes away from her so he could look behind him, into the ballroom, to make sure no one would be watching this, and he was relieved to find that everyone was far more preoccupied with having a good time than looking for their fearless leader and his personal assistant. He pulled gently at the doorknob and pulled one door shut, then reached to pull at the other door. He could hear Pepper shifting behind him, the swish of her dress as she likely braced herself against the handrail, and he kept his face even as he closed the other door and adjusted the curtains.  
  
When he turned, she was still smiling, but now it was tinged with confusion, maybe a little apprehension. Nerves, and a lot of them. He could definitely understand that. He was suddenly very, very glad his reactor's glow didn't respond to heartbeat, since it would probably be looking like a disco ball right about now with the thumpa-thumpa-thump going on in his chest in anticipation.  
  
And it was all about anticipation with them, wasn't it? Lots of promises, silently made and never made good on. He'd always wanted to change that, but it was only now, now that he'd come back and changed and gotten better and possibly maybe sort of kind of _worthy_ , that he'd dare to step forward.  
  
And he did -- step forward, that is, and he hold one hand out and let his fingers slip down her shoulder and skim down her arm to her waiting hand. She held onto his fingers softly, carefully, and he let himself smile only then. _Really_ smile. None of that fake smiling he'd do for the people in that ballroom behind him. No bravado, no pride, no ego. He may have been standing there in a perfectly pressed suit, but before her he felt bare. Free, almost, like the way he felt when he was careening in open skies with the wind at his back and Jarvis in his helmet.  
  
" _Hang a shining star upon the highest bough..._ "  
  
She opened her mouth, but he let go of her hand and quickly raised a finger to her lips, shushing her silently. She blinked, closed her mouth, but it wasn't fast enough and for one brief moment he'd felt her warm wet breath on his fingertip. A shiver went down his spine, and it told him he was completely absolutely right in doing this. And that maybe he should have done this far earlier.  
  
His finger lowered, hand resting on her shoulder now. His other hand finally came out of his pocket, and he held it between them, over their heads, grasping a small sprig of mistletoe in between two fingers and a thumb. Pepper's eyes widened slightly, glancing from the mistletoe and back to his face, his eyes. It was now or never, he knew, because her look wasn't a no look. It was a _yes, please kiss me_ look. (Well, it was more of a _I'm nervous and scared to death that this is going to change us for the worse but please kiss me anyway_ look but hey, at least it matched what he felt, and that was the most important thing.)  
  
Slowly, he leaned forward, and for a moment she probably thought he was aiming incorrectly, but he wasn't because he really _was_ aiming for her cheek, kissing just barely, as one thumb slid in nervous half-circles on her shoulder. He pulled back just enough to see her reaction: her eyes were half-closed, she was holding her breath, and he was pretty sure that was the most beautiful blushing smile he would ever see on anyone's face for the rest of his life forever and ever amen.  
  
Their eyes locked, and just as he was about to lower that mistletoe, one of her hands came up quickly and held his wrist up. He raised his eyebrows in silent question, and she smiled in reply, leaning forward so their noses touched. His own lopsided smile broadened; eskimo kisses totally counted, and anyway he loved her nose (and everything else, he finally admitted to himself), so this was good, this was very very good.  
  
By the time she leaned forward and placed her lips on the corner of his mouth, he'd stopped thinking entirely, and at some point the mistletoe dropped and their fingers were laced together, arms lowered enough so they were in a sort of still-frame dance, except she must have been leading because her other hand was at his waist while his other hand was still on her shoulder, and now it slid up her neck to cup her cheek, and he couldn't breathe and didn't really want to, and if he could just move his face an inch to the left it would be more perfect than it already was which seemed impossible but he felt like he could do anything just as long as he could have her right here with him like this for the rest of the night.  
  
She kissed him once, again, again, tiny little pecks at the corner of his mouth, and he returned the favor to the corner of hers. Little by little, he would move himself a fraction closer, a fraction to the left, and she would do the same, and it was the most beautiful torture he could ever think of. Just before their lips finally officially met, he paused, watching her, making sure he would get her attention. And he did, her eyes fixated on his, blush seemingly permanently dusted on the freckles at the bridge of her nose. It was an intense look, a look of promises kept rather than simply made and forgotten (oh lord, but they were never forgotten, _never ever,_ not even in those three months), and then he moved in and so did she, and finally it was happening, it was right and it was them and this was the only thing he really wanted this Christmas and every other for the rest of his life, and from the way she kissed back he was pretty sure she felt the same way.  
  
It was Christmas Eve, and for once, Tony wasn't alone. And tomorrow, he would call up Rhodey and smile and laugh and hear his reaction to the presents he'd sent, both the gag gift and the real one, and he'd drink eggnog and walk around in red and green fuzzy socks, and maybe he'd sit at the piano and sing to Pepper while playing this song. The song he'd remember for years as the one he heard while he kissed her for the first time, the girl he pined for, the girl he could actually see himself being with for years and years.  
  
It was almost poetic, if it weren't so damn sappy. But hey, for kisses like this, he could definitely stand a little sappiness.  
  
" _And have yourself a merry little Christmas now._ "


End file.
